


Wild Thing

by rispacooper



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Car Sex, Case Fic, First Time, M/M, Stakeout, Werewolf Sex, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:50:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The moon is full,” Fraser bites off his words and pauses to breathe. He yanks his hand away and leaves it in a fist in his lap, turning to face front. “And that makes it so much harder,” he tells me stiffly. “I usually try to keep to myself on these nights.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paraxdisepink](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=paraxdisepink).



“I fuckin’ hate stakeouts.” It isn’t the first time I’ve said that tonight, and it’s not like I don’t know that saying it over and over isn’t going to make the stakeout end any faster. But the inside of the GTO is as dead as the alley we’re supposed to be watching, and so I say it for something to say, because normally, if I say something that pointless, Fraser will speak up just to politely remind me that complaining isn’t going to make our shift go any faster.

Which, since I already know that, would make me say something back about how Fraser probably likes sitting around like a statue, like how he probably does it for fun even when Thatcher don’t make him, because sometimes I could swear that Fraser really is made of freaking _stone_ ; and I’m talking the purest, coldest marble that even a bank wouldn’t use in its floor, that wouldn’t crack if you jumped all over it, wouldn’t get hot even if you stripped naked and read letters to the Penthouse Forum into his ear. All of which is just as dumb of a thought as complaining in the first place, since I know that Fraser gets hurt pretty easily no matter what he says, but I never could stand being still for long and I kind of like it when Fraser gets real quiet and prissy and pissed off at me.

Fraser gets pissed off like a girl most of the time, like Stella when we were kids before she felt comfortable enough to really scream at me. He just goes all quiet and polite and no matter what I do after that, it’s all “Yes, Ray” and “No thank you, Ray” and humming to himself like he don’t even hear me trying to apologize. Just once I’d like to see the guy really rage at me, and not just snap like he started to back in that damn sub before he made himself shut up.

Not that I want to see us end up like me and Stella. That is…that is totally, absolutely the last thing I want. So I can’t help it when I look over at him, realizing as I do that Fraser hasn’t said anything to me, not about what I said, or anything else, in…in a long time. He’s just sitting in the passenger seat, glancing out the front window, out the side window, even checking the rear view mirror like someone’s going to come up and tackle us from behind. In the freaking car.

“I fuckin’ hate stakeouts.” I say it again, and since I’m watching Fraser I actually see the way he flinches when I speak, and even the careful look he shoots me without really turning his head, like he can’t bother to look at me, or maybe he just doesn’t want to.

I sit up before I can stop myself, craning my neck to look, real obvious, over my shoulder to the back of the car. Dark empty streets, same as before, and as I’m sitting back I catch the way Fraser’s mouth thins, like he’s caught on that I’m making fun of him.

He jerks his head to the side before I can notice more than that, so quick his neck ought to crack, so I drop my eyes to the stoplight, candy apple red of his uniform, which of course he is wearing on a stakeout, as though even in the dark people aren’t going to be able to see him. Not to mention he’s probably uncomfortable as hell in it, all buckled up and strapped in just to sit on his ass and stare out windows, and it’s a fucking waste, a fucking _waste_ that we are sitting here when there’s action to be had somewhere else. Not that I want to get shot at tonight, or jump off buildings after Fraser into smelly dumpsters, or that even with the boredom of watching a place where you knew that probably nothing was going to happen if you watched until the freaking skies fell, it wasn’t normally pretty nice to sit in a car and doze off a little listening to Fraser telling you stories about his life in Canada.

Fraser has a nice voice. Everything about Fraser is nice. Nice handsome face, nice reasonable eyes, nice strong body… But I catch myself this time and end that thought right there, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel the way Fraser is tapping his hands on his lap. And that’s strange, like tonight it’s Fraser who just can’t wait to get home to his office room with its dinky cot, but I am _not_ thinking about that either, not now in the car with Fraser, not _ever_ if I can manage it.

Fraser was just…nice. The best guy in the world. The kind of guy you’d want with you when the bad shit goes down, and at the good times too; in fact Fraser just being there sort of made them _de factor_ the good times. Sure, he was crazy, but it’s not like I’m a picnic. Leave me in a car for longer than an hour and already I’m picking fights.

I sigh, because maybe that’s true, and maybe I know why, and so I try to think of a way to apologize without actually having to admit that I was looking for trouble, and while I’m thinking, Fraser leans quickly over into my space, his shoulder brushing mine, his hand passing over the steering wheel inches from my fingers.

He peers through the window like he just _has_ to get a better view of the big, white moon and then he’s back in his seat, completely ignoring me. He has one arm resting along the window now, and his fingers are curled into the upholstery, making these indents, the kind of lines that Dief’s claws leave in the backseat sometimes.

“What the hell, Fraser?” I wave my hand sort of at myself and then at him, and Fraser jerks again like he’s surprised that I’ve broken the silence again, like Constable Can’t Sit Still was _enjoying_ the silence and not about to lose his freaking mind.

“My apologies, Ray,” Fraser says after a long pause, only he sounds like he’s gritting his teeth, and if he thinks I’m letting that one go, he’s got about five things coming, because I will pop him one again if he don’t spill it. There is no way I’m sitting for six more hours in this car with Fraser being this…weird.

Fraser is already weird; he don’t need any extra.

But like he has just has to prove me wrong and show that he’s not a statue after all, Fraser is leaning forward again, staring up at the moon and then leaning back, clearing his throat.

“I have not been sleeping well,” he admits, and since Fraser tries really hard not to lie, I know that’s true. I also know that’s not everything, because I know Fraser, and because you don’t interrogate dumb punks year after year and not learn a thing or two about catching out the truth. He’s avoiding something, and he thinks that telling me a little is going to shut me up.

That hurts, that Fraser doesn’t trust me, but I lean back until my head is on the seat and then I turn to look at him.

Fraser’s eyes are closed, and he’s frowning a little. It’s not a look that looks bad on him. His mouth seems full, kind of like he bit it, and there are spots of color in his cheeks, and with that frown all I can think is that Fraser looks frustrated. Frustrated. Fraser. And that’s enough to make me lick my lips, open my mouth to breathe a little harder. I’ve never seen Fraser frustrated with anything other than a case, and he doesn’t kick things like I do, doesn’t want to punch stuff that gets in his way, Fraser is always calm, always patient. Fraser is the one who stands behind me and whispers that it’s time to go home, and reaches out to touch me right on the shoulder to say come with me, or on my back to let me know that it’s ok.

So this must be something else, I know that. But I’m still watching him so I see how his nostrils flare as he suddenly inhales sharply, and then his eyes are open and he’s looking at me.

“I…” He starts, and then frowns again and stares at the dash. “I wonder if I might have some of your coffee, Ray.”

I shut my mouth so hard I bite my tongue. I nod at him while I’m still swearing under my breath, blinking away the sting. And Fraser, who doesn’t really like coffee, and who especially disapproves of my coffee, picks up my open thermos and puts it to his mouth.

I watch his throat move as he swallows, gulps it down, and I know what it tastes like, rich and strong and sweet, and a little is spilling down over Fraser’s jaw, down his neck, and when he finally put the thermos back down I think I’m staring at it, studying the rim still warm from Fraser’s mouth and wondering how long I can wait until I’m allowed to drink from it without looking like a freak.

But I think maybe Fraser is watching me and not staring out the damn windows. I tear my eyes from my thermos and raise my head. Fraser’s got that frustrated look again, thoughtful and pissy at the same time, like maybe he didn’t want to be thoughtful, because maybe it was irritating to always be thinking about everything instead of just doing it.

But that’s probably not it either, because it wasn’t like there was anything stopping Fraser if he wanted to act, and the guy had no problem setting off after purse snatchers and walking into the line of fire of any psycho with a gun, so I don’t think asking someone out is going to scare his pants off.

Fraser is still watching me though, and I’m thinking that his mouth still tastes like my kind of coffee, and right as I think it, Fraser inhales through his nose, like he’s sniffing the air between us. Maybe he likes the smell of coffee. Or maybe I’m wearing the same shirt I had on yesterday and I stink of Eau de Ray and Fraser just wants to crack a window. Even if Fraser would lick a moose’s butt in the pursuit of justice, my B.O. isn’t exactly the kind of thing that’s going to get him off or make sitting in the car for the next few hours any easier.

But he does it again, I can hear him breathing in, and his mouth opens a little, making me think of those science shows where they say you taste smells more then you actually _smell_ them. Fraser is looking right at me, and then he leans his head to the side as though he’s about to ask a question. Only he doesn’t say anything. I scratch my nose and look away, shrugging a little as I turn to look out the back window for Fraser. My gaze falls on the empty backseat and I can feel my mouth moving before I even know what the hell I’m saying.

“Where is the wolf again?” It sounds weird, to hear my voice in the quiet car, and there’s something seriously freaky going on tonight. Out of the corner of my eye, just around the edge of my glasses where things are real blurry I see Fraser move, sort of _shiver_ , and I turn back but he’s gone still.

As I try to settle back in my seat, Fraser answers me, pressing his hand to his forehead. I can tell he’s trying to be reasonable, but whatever is bugging him is giving his voice this little edge, until he isn’t so smooth anymore.

“Diefenbaker _is_ a wild thing, Ray. Some nights he has no wish to be part of this world.” And if Fraser’s trying to tell me that he didn’t want to come along tonight, if there were other nights where he wanted to tell me to fuck off and was too polite, then fuck him unless he comes right out and says it.

I can look out windows too. I stare out into the street, which looks cold and dark and empty but sort of pretty, all lit up by the full moon. A moon like that meant trouble. The scientists are full of it on that one; ask any cop and they’ll tell you that a low, bright moon like this one brings out the animals.

“He’s out taking care of his urges, that’s what you mean, Fraser.” I can’t help myself. I have to tease him, have to make it worse, like scratching an itch. Now there’s an idea. “He’s out cattin’ around.” I add in case Fraser didn’t get it, only I know he did because Fraser goes still again, and then I hear that neck crack.

He’s probably licking his lower lip, probably running a hand down his thigh, but I am not thinking about that or wishing the light was right to make my window glass a little more reflective.

“Catti…” I hear Fraser start and then he snaps his mouth shut, and I guess he wanted to argue about my choice of words but decided not to bother. And he might be trying to mind his manners, but he’s got to know that I won’t. I grin as I turn to face him and Fraser’s gaze runs over me before he forces his eyes down and his lips are still red and swollen but he tries to flatten them anyway.

“It is his nature, Ray.” Is all he says after a long, long pause, and for a few seconds I can hear Fraser breathing heavy. For a second the memory of the sub is strong, so strong I could be there, feeling how quick Fraser’s chest was moving against me, a big flashing sign that it was getting time to really press home the interrogation, to just push that extra bit until those sweet words I’d been dying to hear came pouring out.

“Can’t help himself, huh?” I remark, stretching out the best I can in the driver’s seat, leaning back and spreading my legs just a little. I arch one eyebrow and Fraser frowns, lifting his chin like he was going to stare me into shutting up. But he hasn’t said a single word, and since he don’t seem to care, I put one hand in my lap, real casual, real easy, and just let it sit there, a nice warm weight.

“I don’t know Fraser…” I know I’m still talking, because I can see Fraser twitch a little, but mostly I’m concentrating on the hand I was dumb enough to put next to my crotch. Suddenly the only thing I want to do is move it; but I really don’t think Fraser wants to watch me jerk off, even if this stakeout is boring as fuck. I take a deep breath and try to remember what the fuck I was talking about before I came damn near to giving myself a hard-on in front of Fraser. “I watched one of those nature shows once, and they said wolves are…you know…monogamous.”

Fraser doesn’t correct me, so I must have gotten the word right. Of course maybe he’s just distracted by the fact that I just called Dief a slut, but a distracted Fraser can be a good thing, and I slide my hand to my leg and leave it there.

“I didn’t know you had an interest in wolves, Ray.” Fraser says carefully, like he’s weighing and measuring his words before he says them. When I look up I change my mind and decide Fraser isn’t watching his words so much as he’s watching me. I make myself shrug.

“Well since I know one,” I tell him and Fraser pulls himself up into his best doing his duty Mountie pose, shivering again like he did before.

“Ray…” He licks his lips and starts in that tone, that tone that freaks me out, the one that means Fraser is about to say something I’m not going to like it, and that’s it, absolutely the last thing I need right now is weird news from Fraser. I turn away and reach for the first thing I see, which turns out to be my coffee, and I take a sip before I remember, and then I’m just running my tongue around my mouth, over my lips, tasting Fraser.

Shit. That wasn’t something Fraser was going to miss. For a second I pause anyway, and then I glare over at him, setting the thermos back down and trying to look like I got nothing to hide. I am not the one with the problem, I remind myself, and jerk my chin up.

Fraser is giving me a look I haven’t seen since the early days of this pretend Vecchio deal, a look full of a lot of things that apparently Fraser didn’t feel like saying out loud. It’s something in between sad and angry, and if it is Vecchio that makes him look like that then I don’t want to hear about it.

But there’s nothing else I can do if the guy wants to suddenly start talking about his old partner but listen, because I’m supposed to be his friend even if boredom does turn me into the bastard Stella called me sometimes.

I sigh, noisy and loud, and turn to glare out the windshield at the deserted alley and dark factory we’re supposed to be watching according to some weasel informant.

“Yeah, Fraser?” I give him permission and make a sound kind of like a snarl when he just dives right into his story.

“You recall my trip to the Territories last year?” He asks, like I’ve forgotten how he was gone for a whole month. I snarl again, a little louder this time, and cross my arms. But I nod and it’s like that tiny bit of encouragement is all Fraser needs.

“On my third night out, I was after an illegal poacher…” Only Fraser would take time off from work to go work for free, but knowing Fraser the poacher had found him and not the other way around. Benton Fraser attracts trouble the way he attracts everyone he meets—without even freaking trying.

If he hears me grumbling, which he does because he has ears like a bat, he doesn’t say anything, so I let myself grumble even louder. “…The moon was full, just like tonight, I could see it even through the patchy clouds, in between brief downpours. Dief was gone, out catting as you said, Ray. And…” Fraser hesitating makes me shut up, and I’m still not looking at him, but I’m listening, because it’s not about Vecchio and Fraser’s voice is breaking. He just coughs and goes on. “I was tracking him, and I found some wolf tracks just as the rain cleared up, full of what looked like chewing tobacco…”

“Aw, Fraser, did you lick something again?” I shout at him and make a face at the same time. “I told you about that.”

“Yes. Yes, Ray you did.” Fraser agrees with me pretty calmly, which is freaking strange no matter what he says, so I shoot him a glance, and he’s rubbing at his forehead. “That was exactly the problem. You see…” His thumb goes to his eyebrow and I blink. This was not going to be news I wanted to hear. Fraser cleared his throat, and up goes the chin again. My heart just about kicks me in the ribs.

“Well, Ray, the fact remains that technically, it appears, it _seems_ …that I drank from the footstep of a wolf.” Fraser turns his eyes on me, fixes them on me like he needs me to understand, like I am supposed to understand what the hell he is talking about. He shakes his head when I don’t say anything and then turns to look at the backseat. “Though perhaps it wasn’t the animal at all but simply my nature all along, and the situation only brought it to the forefront. The shamans weren’t exactly clear on the matter, and I found the texts at your library even more confusing.”

The crazy babbling. The crazy-ass Fraser babbling. I could pop him one. I should put my hands over my ears and tune him out, but instead I’m sitting and listening to Fraser explain something without really explaining a goddamn thing, and that could mean nothing or everything if Fraser was just avoiding something and trying to distract me with fucked up poacher-tracking, licking tobacco spit from rain-filled paw prints stories. And if that was true it was working.

”What the _hell_ are you talking about, Fraser?” I’m breathing hard but I make myself look at him, reaching out a little, and I only know that I’m going to touch him and not punch his crazy lights out when I see my hand on his chest. He’s all red wool, thick enough to hide just about anything. “You ok?” I ask him and shut my mouth so hard my jaw hurts when Fraser’s heart pounds under my hand but then he’s pulling back and staring up at the moon.

“I am trying to tell you that I’m a werewolf, Ray.” Fraser says quietly, still looking at the full moon, and he’s leaning just far enough forward that his face sort of glows in the moonlight, creating shadows around him. He seems bigger, stranger, like he did the first time I saw him in the bullpen and tried to match his picture to the man in front of me. It’s only the lunatic shit he’s saying that lets me know that I’m still looking at the Fraser I know. “Or perhaps a _loup garou_ ,” he murmurs practically under his breath, and I don’t even want to know what a loo garoo is. I know I don’t, just like I know Fraser’s going to tell me anyway. “I do not believe my transformations are complete, though perhaps they might become so in time. I don’t really know.”

That last part he says sort of apologetically, rolling his shoulders and giving me quick looks that maybe he thinks I don’t see.

My eyes feel dry, so I blink. Then I scrub my hand across my face, hard, but when I open my eyes and look back at him, Fraser is still sitting across from me, in the passenger seat of the GTO, waiting for my take on being told that he is a…

It’s happened. It’s finally happened. Fraser really has cracked; he’s really lost it for real this time. No shitting about ghosts and spirits, this was _nuts_ and now I was going to have to hide this from Welsh or they’d never let Fraser anywhere near me and the PD again.

“Fraser…” I can barely get his name out my throat is so tight, just thinking of Fraser locked up someplace. And Fraser turns back to look at me, talking low and rough.

“Just listen, Ray.” Fraser ducks his head a little, but his gaze is narrowed and strong enough to pin me where I am. I bring my hand back up, rubbing at my mouth and Fraser’s nostrils flare. I drop my hand. “You don’t understand, Ray, and I am trying to explain…to warn you.”

Crazy or not, I am not about to sit like a lump and listen to Fraser lecture me. I sit up and then gasp when Fraser’s hand pushes against my shoulder and holds me in place. Fraser is strong, but suddenly it’s like I can’t move unless he wants me to. I clench my jaw and push against him anyway. His hand is heavy, nice and hot, and for a moment he curls his fingers into me like he wants to leave more tracks.

“The moon is full,” Fraser bites off his words and pauses to breathe. He yanks his hand away and leaves it in a fist in his lap, turning to face front. “And that makes it so much harder,” he tells me stiffly. “I usually try to keep to myself on these nights.”

I open my mouth, swipe at my lips with my tongue, then try to speak. I’m going to say something dumb. I know it.

“Got some urges like Dief, huh?” I make a joke that’s not very funny and Fraser twitches, looking back at me with this line between his eyes, this line that he smooths out while I’m watching, like I don’t see that I’m hurting him by not believing him. A joke just like me, like this, where I’m sitting in a car with Fraser who thinks he’s a werewolf even though he’s the guy least likely to pounce on _anything_ no matter what you do, so my fucking mouth won’t stop moving

“If you wanna run around and go sniff some crotches, be my guest, Fraser.” I’m the one scowling when I’m done, frowning at the way Fraser’s jaw is getting tight, at the dark looks he’s giving me. The moonlight is creeping in to surround him, making him even more beautiful than usual and I can see he’s definitely getting angry now, but I have urges I have to deal with too, so I keep going, wishing Fraser would slap a hand to me again. “Or maybe even though you’re supposed to be all monogamous, you wanna go around banging stuff just like the wolf.”

“Dief is only half-wolf, Ray” Fraser reminds me, his lips barely moving as he talks. He shook his head and I shut my damn mouth at last, because Fraser isn’t breathing steadily, and I can hear the edge working back into his voice, tightly wound and melting that ice.

“In addition to that, he has been softened by his time in the city.” I let out a breath and stare at Fraser, the freaking perfect line of his back, wearing that damn red coat so I can’t miss him. “In any case, Ray,” he speaks up suddenly, raising his voice. “…It’s unlikely I’d be able to, as you say, satisfy any urges. But even if that were my need, I am closer to the wolves on your nature show than to...”

Fraser cuts himself off there and stares out the window like that damn alley is the most fascinating fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Fraser?” This night can not get any weirder. That is about all that’s keeping me from jumping up and find the nearest bar. Some kind of dingy dive, where the smoke is so thick I wouldn’t be able to see Fraser’s red serge if it was right in front of me. “You can’t just dump this on a guy, Fraser.”

“You can take it however you wish, Ray.” Fraser is definitely pissed off now, because that is about as close as Fraser will get to saying take it and shove it up your ass, Ray, but we both know what he really means. Only if he thinks I’m backing down, he really is a nutcase.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I’m snorting and shifting impatiently in my seat. I slap my hand down between us onto the vinyl and Fraser’s eyes drop down to follow it. “Like you can’t get a date? With your face all perfect and the way you move and how you act, butter won’t melt in that sexy mouth of yours, and then…” Fuck. I shut up, but Fraser’s already twisting his head to stare at me.

For a half a second he just blinks, and then he purses his lips and looks seriously irritated.

“I think you’ve made it more than clear, Ray, that that is not the case. I don’t see why you’re trying to assuage my feelings now.”

My knuckles are throbbing and when I put my hand in front of my face to see why, I realize that I punched the dashboard. It hurts like hell so I do it again. I am not hearing this.

“What the fuck? What the _fuck_ are you talking about Fraser?” The last thing you’re supposed to do on a stakeout is draw attention to yourself, but I’m yelling and beating up my own car and I don’t care, not when Fraser has gone stiff and quiet on me, mad as hell but of course he won’t do nothing about it. Werewolf my ass. “As far as I’m aware, you can get laid whenever you want.” I think I’m waving my hands around, but pretty much everything is a blur except Fraser. “All you’d have to do is ask, and they’d be dropping to their knees. That is the purpose of asking someone out, Fraser. You ought to be fighting them off. So why aren’t you? Why don’t you just ask one of your hundreds of admirers on dates and get yourself some sex to get rid of those urges if they’re so fuckin’ bad?”

“I just told you, Ray, and I don’t appreciate your protestations of innocence.” Fraser is close to snapping at me; maybe he’s sitting up but the GTO seems smaller all the sudden, like a tin can and I’m the freaking sardine that’s about to get chewed up and swallowed. I frown at him and stop breathing when Fraser actually frowns right back at me. “In fact, Ray, I find it rather cruel, considering I have made my feelings more than plain.”

“ _My_ …?” I think I am choking. Any other time I would have to ask Fraser if it was possible to physically choke on your own words, but right now I just want to cram them down his stubborn throat. “Your feelings? What feelings? What the hell, Fraser?” I am getting seriously tired of asking him that too. Fraser pulls back, still sitting so perfect and straight that he can glare down at me, but when he talks he’s all Frozen North.

“Well, as you have instructed me, Ray, the purpose of a date is to get into bed. Now, as you recall, I asked you out the day we met, therefore I assumed sex to be the next logical step according to your viewpoint.”

Oh.

Fuck.

I think maybe I’m dreaming. That maybe this stakeout was so boring I fell asleep, and I’m dreaming this. Only my gut is all twisted like I really just heard Fraser inform me that he asked me out and maybe also that he wants to fuck me—and only me—like a sex-craved animal and that somehow I missed all of that, what with the cars on fire and gun shots, and “I’m a werewolf, Ray”s, and now he thinks…he thinks…

I shut my big, fat mouth just when I know I ought to open it. If I count to ten, maybe I won’t smack him upside the head. I twist, trying to push myself forward and Fraser actually pulls away from me, putting his back to the door.

“Now what would you have me do, Ray? You yourself have pointed out the exact nature of my dilemma. I…” His eyes are as brilliant as the light outside as he looks at me and then he angles his head up, blinking once or twice.

He turns, and then he’s pawing at the door. “They are going to kill our informant,” he says calmly and slips out the door.

I get maybe two or three heartbeats to sit in the car and stare after him and think about radioing in for some backup. Except I know Fraser’s got good hearing but not that good that he can hear inside a brick building about a block away and also he’s nuts, and if Fraser is wrong we could blow our whole case if a bunch of squad cars show up with their sirens blaring. So I’m out of the GTO and grabbing for my gun and running after him before it occurs to me that Fraser has always been nuts and that he’s almost never wrong. And now our stakeout is definitely going to be blown and we didn’t even get anything out of it.

Which is just the hot fudge and sprinkles on the fucked up sundae that tonight is turning out to be.

“Fraser!” I hiss after him, still trying to be quiet, but I don’t know why I bother, because Fraser finds a door, turns to look at me for a second, and then swings it open.

All I can think is that that rat’s life better be worth Fraser’s if he’s inside that building doing what I think he’s doing. That he is standing there with his arms out saying “Please shoot me, lowlife street scum, because apparently I don’t give a shit about my own safety.”

I pause for a second at the door and then creep around to the long row of windows instead. They’re covered in something grey and sticky, but I can reach them when I climb on some crates and when I peer inside I can see Fraser standing there, down a little like he’d had to run down some stairs to get to the main floor of the warehouse, and I can see his mouth moving. I imagine he’s trying the Lost Bystander bit, because he’s scratching his head and trying to look dumb.

I also see two strung-out looking bad guys and one scrawny desperate looking guy with his hands up and none of them seem to be buying Fraser’s act either. Also, one of the bad guys has a gun.

Fuck this. I crack the window, which despite all the crap on it doesn’t make any noise, and I hear Fraser, as calm as only he would be with a gun aimed at his fucking chest. I grab my gun for real and climb up on another crate right as he finishes up.

“…Very well. If you do intend to choose violence, I feel it only fair to first inform you that this building is currently surrounded with members of the Chicago Police Department.”

Even my mother wouldn’t have believed that one, but I got one leg up through the window, and then I’ll leap down to surprise them and once I got the drop on them Fraser can do his Fraser thing and we’ll have them rounded up in time to watch the Late Show back at my place.

I get my other leg up over the sill and then for about half a second I’m balancing on thin, hard, painful metal and then I’m just lying on my back on the floor and I can’t pull in air right and there’s a bunch of noise, like maybe I knocked over about a million cans when I crashed down here on my ass and when I look up there’s a bare lightbulb swinging from the ceiling, which is really fucking high up.

I reach out before I can think about it, and close my fingers around my Beretta. Then I’m up and trying to get to my feet in the middle of all this shouting. I move my eyes around and see one guy’s back as he slips out another door at a dead run, and I get my gun up and open my mouth to yell for him to freeze but then Fraser’s red coat is blocking my shot so I spin again and focus right away on the other strung-out lowlife piece of shit as he makes for a back staircase leading up to the second story.

“Chicago PD!” I’m shouting at him and moving even though I can feel about six places in my back screaming at me. My heart is like a fucking freight train but I look around as I’m running and catch a glimpse of the fucking rat that started it all. “Don’t you freaking try to move!” I still got breath so I use it on him and then I book it after the other suspect.

Stairs make the rest of me scream too, but I’m still faster than some cracked-out punk and I grab his feet right as he clears the last step. He slams into the ground and then I’m on top of him.

“Thought you were gonna get away with it, huh? Well it’s freakin’ too bad you don’t know Fraser!” I’m dizzy I’m so out of breath, but I snarl into his ear anyway, and I got the cuffs on him before I realize he’s not exactly fighting me. That makes me pause long enough to check that he’s still breathing and his pulse is fine, and then I realize that either the guy fainted in terror at the sight of me or he knocked himself cold when he hit the floor.

I know which one Fraser would think without even asking.

Fraser. Shit. I go real still but I can’t hear anything downstairs.

I could really give a fuck about this guy, but I know Fraser would, so I feel him over one more time, but his heart’s beating steadier than mine and then I just have to go. I fly down the stairs three at a time, and then make like one of those guided missiles toward the door where I last saw Fraser.

“Fraser!” He’s got to know I’m coming after him. That’s all I have time to think until I hear the click echo and bounce off the dirty walls around me.

“Vecchio!” I hear someone say, which they wouldn’t if they knew how much I’m seriously starting to hate that fucking name. But I stop and I turn carefully on my heels and our would-be informant is close behind me and holding up a gun of his own. “This is what you call protecting me?”

“Give me…” I have to stop and suck in air before I can go on, and I even bend over a little, putting a hand to my aching back. The guy actually leans in to me like I’m going to tell him a secret. “…a freaking break. We saved your ass here, remember?”

He scowls like he doesn’t think I’m funny and then we’re both going still, though I think he doesn’t flinch like I do at the sound of the long, slow howl from somewhere outside the building. If I didn’t know Dief I wouldn’t know that sound, but I know it’s not any dog, no dog could make a sound like that. It’s freaky enough to give me goosebumps, because the sound is happy and lonely and about a thousand things that it shouldn’t be, and it’s too big and loud to have come from anything small.

I turn my head even though I ought to know better. The moonlight is filtered through the dirt on the windows, but clear and streaming through the window I opened. The howling starts again and I jerk up and into gear, twisting the gun out of the informant’s hand before he has time to close his mouth and look at me. Then I got my piece in his face and his tucked into my pants.

“How about you stay here and be good while I go find my partner?” I suggest quietly, still catching my breath, the guy goes all white and moves his mouth a little but not a peep comes out. He is absolutely terrified to be facing Detective Ray Kowalski.

I push up my glasses and jerk my head toward the wall, which is where I want him to park it while I find Fraser. But the guy doesn’t move. It’s like he’s frozen, so I frown, and watch as his eyes leave me completely and focus on something behind me.

That’s when I hear the growling.

I’m thinking again that nothing small could be making noise like that, and I’m also thinking that Dief didn’t ride along tonight. The informant’s eyes are so big they could rival that moon out there and fuck, I should never have agreed to a stakeout on a night like this. I fucking hate stakeouts.

For a second there are footsteps too, or not really footsteps, just the sound like movement on a stone floor, kind of slow. And the guy is close to passing out too, judging from the look on his face, and my chest is locked tight, worse than out-of-air-in-freezing-water tight, and I don’t know why, but I can see that the hand holding my gun is shaking.

I close my eyes long enough to hear my blood pumping in my ears and then I forget all about the rat and turn around, keeping my arms level as I narrow my eyes and focus on the shape emerging from the shadows into the flickering light. That lightbulb is still swinging back and forth, and that’s probably not such a bad thing, because my mouth goes dry and my gut knots and I am…

I am…

I am looking at a fucking werewolf. And it’s wearing The Uniform.

And somewhere, though I don’t think I care too much, our informant is leaving me and running like a bat out of hell for the door, any door. But I don’t even twitch.

Big.

Fraser has always been a big guy. Something about the way he stands, tall and proper, just always shoves his size into your face. And the uniform, when he wears that it’s like he’s even harder to ignore. He takes up space, in a room, in your head.

Red. Grey. He’s a mess of color. I can see the serge stretching to fit him, the Sam Browne gone like maybe he’d torn himself free of the damn thing, his collar ripped down to his chest. And that was moving, deep motions, in and out as he breathed, and it was like watching those nature shows, watching sleeping lions breathe, seeing if wolves dreamed.

My gun is shaking again. I grip it tighter and try to toss my head.

The thing…the wolf…the werewolf thing wearing Fraser’s clothes steps forward and it seems weird to see something like this walking on its hind legs, on legs, and maybe it can’t really because the boots are too small, but still he’s coming closer, and I focus on the hands—the paws—claws and fur and dirt.

It had been all on fours before. I imagine Dief running down a suspect and I shiver.

“Fuck,” I whisper, or think I do, and look up, to the thick silver and black fur that I can see on every part that isn’t covered with the uniform. I have to make myself keep looking until I see the face and for a second I just stare at the nose, at the shape of it. It’s like looking at the wolf, only the tongue ain’t out begging me for pizza.

I don’t think it’s after pizza anyway, even if I had any.

I just about jump a mile when the tongue finally darts out, pink and wet, and I get a good look at the rows of teeth and pointed fangs. Teeth. Fangs. Oh fuck. These are things I do not like. And that’s when I do something dumb again; I keep on looking up and I’m almost ready to fall down because in that weird wolf-face are Fraser’s eyes, only they got a look in them that I’ve never seen before.

“What big eyes you…” Fuck. That wasn’t right, but when I speak wolf-Fraser lifts his head, and I’m close enough that I can see the ears perk up. I didn’t notice the ears before, but there they are. I got an itch at the back of my throat, like I need to laugh but instead I just keeping thinking of dumb lines from dumb fairy tales. That’s not right, but it ain’t like I’ve got silver crosses or bullets or whatever I’m supposed to have according to the movies.

“What big ears you got, Fraser.” I say, my voice getting pretty high and maybe I’m going to throw up for second, because those ears twitch when I say his name, so I look quickly back into his eyes.

I feel my arms dropping, lowering my gun before I know I’m doing it. And that’s stupid too, but I’m looking at Fraser, or sort of Fraser, and what am I supposed to do, shoot him? Still, my finger is stroking the trigger, and my muscles are so stiff they’re going to start shaking. I put my head down a little and breathe out, trying to think here.

Only I have no idea what to say. Jesus. What the fuck _was_ a loo garroo? The one time Fraser hadn’t told me every, single boring detail…

“Um…Fraser?” I try, and he drops his head too, and I see his nostrils going wide, and I got about half a second to remember that Dief does that when he’s got the scent of something he’s about to chase after and then I’m backing up and tripping on cans and I really don’t give a shit because wolf-Fraser is coming at me, and he’s coming fast.

I get my gun up, reflex mostly, and then I feel this big hand curl around my arm and shove it back into the wall, hard enough to make my fingers let go. I hear my gun crash to the floor right about the same time I look up and into Fraser’s weird wolf face.

He’s still moving, and he’s close, so I take a step back and then my sore back is against the wall, and I don’t know when I got so close to the wall but I can feel the brick pressing into me and that kind of pain is real, just another reminder that I am not dreaming this. Which actually might not be so bad, because I don’t even want to know what kind of problems you have to have to dream that your best friend and partner just turned into a werewolf and is about to eat you or rip your throat out or whatever it is werewolves do outside of movies. I bet Vecchio never had to deal with this kind of shit.

Wolf-Fraser is big, towering over me without even trying, and I don’t want to look down or up, so I settle for his chest, only to close my eyes when he breathes out and I feel hot breath on my face. I imagine his mouth is open, and I imagine those teeth, and I shudder a little. His hand—paw is still holding my arm tight but I feel the claws digging into my skin a little, and his palm is _furry_. And I shouldn’t even be thinking about jokes to make about that, but I have the crazy itch in my throat again and it kind of tickles like Fraser’s fur, which is soft, until he growls deep in his chest and the urge to laugh just goes right out of me.

“Uh…Fraser?” I try again, real quiet. He hasn’t killed me yet, that’s got to be a good thing, so I say his name, in case the Fraser I know is in there somewhere. “Fraser.”

I slam myself back into the wall in total surprise when I feel his breath on my neck and my heart’s so loud it takes me a minute to notice that I can hear him sniffing my hair. He’s _sniffing_ me, and he’s leaning in close to do it, I can feel the fur on his face on my cheek, which wouldn’t be so bad except then he opens his mouth again, and I remember the fangs.

“Fraser…” I swallow whatever I’m about to say next when Fraser drops his head, and he’s got his nose to my chest now, or really my armpit, and that’s so gross and so Fraser that I can actually hold myself still while he does it. He takes big, deep breaths, inhaling my B.O. like he can’t get enough. Which is…I don’t know what that is. My brain goes a little dead, and I settle for licking my lips while Fraser smells me.

“Remember me, huh?” I go for a laugh, a soft one that I don’t really feel, but it makes me open my eyes. He’s bent over, hot on me, drooling a little because my t-shirt feels damp. It sticks to my skin over my ribs, and I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, almost like panting, hot and heavy. I can’t see if he’s got a tail trapped inside his pumpkin pants, but that’s something I’m not ready to see anyway, so I don’t look too hard.

He left my other hand free, and I don’t move it even though I feel like I could reach out and pet him a little, run my fingers up over his nose to his head between his ears. It’s a weird way to think about touching Fraser. My heart slows down only to ratchet right back up as I wonder what he would do if I put my hand that close to his mouth.

I haven’t tried to fight him off yet, but not for a second has he relaxed his hold on my arm, and I don’t even have a real memory of him coming at me he was so fast. I tug a little, moving my arm just enough to see, and go _absolutely fucking still_ when Fraser growls.

I can feel it against my stomach, and his claws poke into the soft skin of my wrist when he moves, settles against me with this heavy sigh. I feel his teeth for the first time, really feel them against my t-shirt as Fraser noses his way across my chest, breathing out in that annoyed way that animals do when he finds the other gun.

But he leaves it alone, which ought to be a relief, but I’m suddenly way more concerned with where he is interested on going. He pokes his nose between my legs and I think his paw slides away from my arm but I don’t care because Fraser’s sniffing my freaking _crotch_ , and he’s breathing in and out in that same way he did before, and he’s still growling, only it sounds lower, almost like purring, except wolves do not purr I know that much. Which don’t change the fact that he doesn’t seem too angry. He’s like the opposite of angry, he’s like Dief that first day, and he rumbles against my leg and moves and I can feel him almost like rubbing his face back and forth.

He’s hot, and heavy even without leaning on me, and really I have to close my eyes now because otherwise I might look down.

“Knock it off, Fraser…” I whisper, and he licks me. He freaking licks me. I know he does without looking, without even having Fraser lick me before outside of my dreams. I’ve seen him do it enough, like he does it to torture me, just a little glimpse of his tongue sometimes, or maybe more, a long, slow swipe, his tongue flat and heavy, like he’s considering something.

Torture, because now he’s considering _me_ , and licking over my junk through my jeans, and it’s definitely a heavy taste. My dick twitches and suddenly it’s like all my blood is down there under Fraser’s mouth, and I’m not talking pounding, I’m talking the drum section of a fucking orchestra, something that could have come out of the jungle. If that ain’t wild enough, he stops and presses his nose along the inside of my thigh, and he’s breathes in real slow, and I ought to be wishing I was anywhere but here, because I know Fraser, and he’s going to know exactly what’s going in my head right now. He smells it, that the thought of him licking me got me excited, and that’s probably sicko, but there isn’t much about Fraser that doesn’t turn me on.

But I don’t take my hands from the wall, not even when I feel his tongue again, against my leg, following my cock, not until I feel those teeth. He’s drooling, salivating from the smell of me, and it smears on my jeans about as wet and sticky as my own problem and when he breathes out I feel those teeth again, and I have to open my eyes.

“Fuck.” Is the first thing I say, and while I’m trying to think of something else I look down and those weird Fraser eyes are looking back up at me, and he’s doesn’t look like a dog or a half-dog, half-wolf, but he does look something with _urges_ and my mouth goes absolutely dry. “Uh…Not by the hair on my… _Fuck_.” That is wrong too, that is not going to help me here, and I think maybe I’m trembling as that big body sort of heaves itself back up and his eyes just fix on me with all sorts of intent.

“Fraser…” I actually get my hands up this time, only I didn’t think it through, because all that means is I got his chest under my palms, and he’s so hot he’s burning, and for a second I just think about fur coats and the serge, and then I move my hands up, pushing a little around his shoulders.

That doesn’t do anything, so I push harder and he growls. It isn’t a soft growl this time, but he doesn’t claw my eyes out, so I push again, and maybe my chin comes up because he’s not moving and it’s when I glare up into his eyes that I flash back to that nature show, and whatever it was they said about wolves, it was something about dominance and alphas and whatever those were. And all of that had something to do with mating, even if my brain don’t want to help me remember what yet.

Not until his lips come up and he bares his teeth and I realize that maybe Fraser likes it when I fight back.

“No fuckin’ way!” I snap at him before I can shut my stupid mouth, and maybe my teeth are showing too. Fraser just growls and the sound is in my chest as much as it’s in his and then his paws are on me. I grunt when suddenly I got my face to the brick and Fraser’s breath on the back of my neck. Before I have time to wonder how that happened, I’m shivering and shutting my eyes because Fraser opens his mouth and puts his teeth against my skin. He’s not biting me, not really, just letting me know he could, or holding me still, or something else that I don’t want to know about.

For a few seconds we are both still, and his paws slide to the brick next to my hands, over my hands, and I am dumb, I am fucking moron because I don’t get it until he scoots up close behind me.

“Fuck.” I swear into the wall and the brick is rough on my cheek when I turn my head, but I have to see. “Fuck.” I can’t say anything else. He’s big and hot, and urges don’t even begin to cover it because I kind of can’t help imagining the look in his eyes when he’d told me he wanted me. And in about three seconds I am going to find out just how much.

“Fraser!” My voice breaks and then I lose it completely, just grunting a little when he releases my neck. My skin is wet, as wet as the front of my jeans, and that ain’t all from Fraser. “Seriously, Fraser,” I try, because if I feel weird about it, Fraser’s going to die when he wakes up from this.

I move one hand a little and let it touch him, the fur I felt before. He lets me, I feel his breathing go steady when I touch him and put my hand over his, and then I try again. “Fraser.” He makes like he’s going to move, and I think about trying to fight him off again for about half a second and then just grip his paw tighter. “Fraser!”

I’m yelling, and if that guy upstairs wakes up and hears me, so fucking what? He’s not the one that’s about to have dirty werewolf sex against the goddamn wall.

“Fraser,” I keep saying his name, because it makes him go still, and I shake my head in case he isn’t getting the message. “Fraser you have to wake up…or whatever.” I stop dead when he makes a low noise in his throat, and when I do manage to get something out I sound quiet and scared. “Please, Fraser.” He was going to hate himself and I don’t even want to think about what I’d be feeling later.

My mouth was open, and I was the one panting like I’d run a mile. He wasn’t breathing at all, just trembling behind me, and I shut my eyes tight when he growls and scraps his claws on the brick. His paws slide down, and then away, and I shiver. It is fucking cold without Fraser.

“Ray?” It seems weird now to hear his voice, maybe because it’s louder, rougher than it ought to be, and then it breaks. “Oh my God, Ray, I…”

And I don’t know what I’m expecting when I turn around, but not this weird half-wolf, half-Fraser, Fraser’s face, his mouth, but still the ears, the fur, and he’s still somehow bigger than he was before. He’s gasping and looking at me as I turn around only then the moment I’m facing him he turns away and it sounds like he’s choking. “I’m so sorry, Ray.” It sounds different than “My apologies, Ray,” but still I know it’s about the same, that all Fraser is thinking about is what he did wrong, what I’m going to think of him, if I still like him even though he tried to make intimate.

And I take that about as well as I take the thought of crazy wolf sex. My heart’s pounding and I’m moving toward him because I’m looking at Fraser now, even with a lot more hair than usual, and I reach out and real careful put my hands on him.

He flinches and tries to straighten up in that Fraser way, like he’s uncomfortable, and that’s something to see, because he’s still this beast out of a Disney cartoon. But even under the fur and those ears, I can tell it’s Fraser now, the real Fraser, and I can tell he’s hurting about what he did, what he thinks he did to me. His muscles flex as though he’s thinking about making a run for it, and I feel my fingers tighten before I know it, and I’m all that’s holding him there.

“Look,” I try. It’s hard to talk when it’s still hard to breathe but I have to say _something_. I kind of liked it, is what I think about saying but there’s no way I’m admitting to that out loud, not even in court with my hand on a stack of Bibles. My face gets hot anyway, but Fraser’s still not looking at me.

“I could have forced myself upon you, Ray.” I shiver to hear Fraser say it like that, just plain and _out_ like that, and there are all kinds of bad thoughts that follow it, thoughts about Fraser’s big bad teeth and his big bad claws, and then I know I’m some kind of Fraser-obsessed pervert, because I wonder what else Fraser’s got that’s big and bad.

About the only good thing about it is that it’s not the first time I’ve thought about him like that.

He doesn’t have the teeth now, so I slide one hand up to his face and that brings his eyes to me. He looks startled, and I don’t know if it’s in my head or not that his ears seem smaller, but they don’t really matter now anyway.

“Look,” I try, again, but it’s like my words get stuck in my mouth. I’m really full of shit here, because Fraser already came out and told me the truth even before the whole wolf thing and now I can’t even make him feel better for doing…doing what he could have done before. What he should have done before. Christ.

I scowl even if I am shaking and then I lean in and kiss him, because my words never do what I want, and because I’ve wanted to kiss Fraser for so long now that my lips are open and it’s like fire before we even touch. My mouth, right there on his, and I don’t mean to keep it there long, but Fraser is hot, and his mouth is hot, and his lips part a little like I’ve surprised him, and I don’t care if he does have sharp teeth in there, I slip my tongue in and grunt when he opens wide and lets me. So I kiss Fraser for as long as I can and he tastes so sharp and good it hurts when he pulls away.

He makes this breathless little noise that don’t sound too happy and actually turns his back on me and leaves me standing there with my mouth buzzing and alive and my chest tight and when he does finally say something he sounds like he’s pissed.

“There’s no need for you to try to make me feel better, Ray.” He’s pissed alright, because he’s standing straight and stiff and he sounds like he did in the car. Maybe he’s not talking about what happened against the wall at all, or maybe he is and I’m the nutcase here, but if I were counting, I’d say that’s the third time Fraser’s gotten me revved up tonight and the third time he’s backed off.

And really, what with confessions, and wolves, and _were_ wolves, and kisses, and whatever the fuck was about happen against that wall…I’ve taken just about all I can take.

“Seriously, Fraser?” I think maybe my voice is too high; I _am_ going to wake up that guy upstairs. But I don’t even try to lower it. “Are you serious right now? Because if you are I’m might just pop you one.” Fraser’s head jerks up at that and he frowns and I think maybe I’m charging at him because he’s bigger than he was a second ago. “I’m not just threatening that, I fucking mean it, Fraser!” He kind of half-turns and he’s furry and still weird and he’s actually fucking blinking at me like I just confused him.

 _I_ confused _him_. That’s fucking rich considering the amount of crap Fraser’s been hiding from me. I can feel anger itching under my skin, and my head jerks up to match his and I’m waving my hands at just about everything.

“In case it escaped your notice, Fraser, I have a fucking gun!” His ears go up and I can tell he did forget and I glare at him so hard my head hurts and he ought to be a pile of charred hair in front of me. “And I could’ve stopped you anytime I wanted to.” I get my hands up under my chin, which is good, because the memory makes me tremble a little and I don’t want Fraser to see it.

His mouth opens anyway and I duck my head and I _swear to freaking God_ I want to hit him.

“You think I spread ‘em like that for anybody, Fraser? I can’t handle myself? I got no choice in this?” I’m breathing heavy and I close my mouth and the sounds I make are like the noises Fraser made against my dick. I’m half hard thinking about it and I don’t know if he can still smell that on me but he should fucking see it even if The Uniform doesn’t let me see anything.

And just as I think it, Fraser’s eyes drop. Drop, they fucking zero in on my crotch and his mouth falls open a little and I catch a glimpse of his tongue coming out to wet his lips.

“You look a little frustrated there, buddy,” I snarl at him just to see that annoyed look cross his face again and those broad shoulders go back. He pulls his eyes up and I can tell it takes some effort too and that makes me grin. I flash my teeth at him real nasty. “You had your chance and I didn’t say no, did I, Fraser?” Which even I know isn’t true, but maybe I’m talking about before too, or maybe I’m not, and I just wanted him to slow down, but it doesn’t matter because we’re both breathing heavy but nobody’s moving.

I see Fraser curl his hands into fists and all the fight kind of slips out of me even though I keep my head up. I stay where I am for another minute or so while Fraser frowns at me and then I rub my hands through my hair and over my face.

“Never mind, Fraser.” I wave one hand just to let him know it’s okay, he’s off the hook on account of his loo garoo-ness or whatever and I got work to do. I step over to get my gun, and I holster that as I head to the door and I think my stiff walk is only a little bit obvious. “I gotta call this in.”

There’s a serious ache in my pants and they’re also pretty damp which is probably why I shiver the second I’m out the door. The walk to the GTO seems longer now that I’m not chasing after Fraser and the air outside is dark and cold.

There aren’t too many streetlights. I wouldn’t have been able to see at all if the moon weren’t so big.

I stop to look up and give the moon the finger right as I reach the car and my hands don’t seem to want to work right, so it takes a minute to get the passenger door open. I yank the rat’s gun out of my jeans and toss it on the seat. I don’t think I was concentrating too hard on something simple but I only notice the big presence coming up behind me a second before it’s there and I spin around just in time to get trapped between Fraser and the car.

I pull back, reflex more than anything, and kind of stare to realize that the wolf-Fraser is totally gone and it’s just Fraser panting down at me. His hair is mussed and his cheeks got these spots of color as red as his mouth. His mouth is red because I kissed it, and when I look there, I see him talking before I hear him.

“You are being illogical, Ray,” Fraser says, like he doesn’t have me stuck with the choice of pushing into him or falling into the car. I push into him, getting my hands up and shoving hard enough at his dumb broad shoulders that he has to step back. He just steps right back in though, and I take that for as long as it takes me to suck in a breath and then I’m in his face.

“Oh yeah?” Is about all I got to say and then since I’ve already got Fraser mad I put my hand down between his legs and feel what those pants have been hiding from me.

Fuck. Fraser’s hard. And even with everything that surprises me. But he’s big and hard and pounding right there against my palm and I can’t help it I put my face against his neck and breathe in deep. He smells like Fraser. He’s been sweating a little. And he makes another weird Fraser sound in his throat while I smell him, kind of like a ‘hm’ but rougher. Sexier.

So I take another good sniff and catch something sharp, sharp like Fraser kisses, and I move my hand, just a little, against his cock. He says my name. There it is again, that smell, and that’s horny, I think. That’s the scent of Fraser when he’s horny. I’ve smelled that before, and it was for me.

“Ray,” Fraser’s says low, into my ear, but I can hear him, smelling my hair, and I don’t care anyway. I get it, I so fucking get it.

My mouth is open, I’m panting, and I can taste Fraser, smell Fraser, and then I feel his tongue against my ear, and I know he’s licking because he has to, he’s got to know, so I lick along his neck. The Uniform is stretched and torn from before and my other hand is working at the collar.

Fraser makes that noise again, the one that makes my dick twitch, and his hands feel big when he gets them on me. At my sides, on my chest, at my neck and then I think maybe I’m growling at him because he’s trying to urge me up and I don’t want to stop breathing him in but he’s forcing me to look at him.

Or not. Because the second I’m up and frowning at him, Fraser’s mouth is all over mine, wet and hungry, licking, sucking, maybe he’s biting me too, devouring me and it cuts me into pieces how hungry he is for this; it rips my fucking heart out.

That’s okay. He can take that.

I still got his cock. It’s mine, in my fucking hand, and I work it. He’s grunting against my mouth, pausing to breathe, and he’s loud, so loud he’ll be embarrassed later but I don’t care. I rub him through his pants until I can feel something wet between my fingers and Fraser’s jerking hard against me.

“Ray...” Fraser tears his mouth off mine to warn me and we’re both trying to get some air for a second.

“Yeah?” I got my face against his neck again, and now that he’s still I push my hands around until I find his fly.

“Ray…” Fraser says it again, says my name like he’s going to stop me, like I’m going to play fair. He knows I won’t, and when I slip a hand down his pumpkin pants his hands curl into my sides and he shifts. All of the sudden I’m between his legs and he’s leaning forward.

Fraser’s cock. I can feel Fraser’s hard cock against my stomach and that’s a hell of a lot different from in my hand and my lips fall open. I lick his skin and let him thrust against me for a second, squeezing my eyes shut because it feels so fucking good. Good. Greatness. So much all at once I bite on his neck; I sink my teeth in enough to bruise and spread my legs and I might as well scream out “Fuck me, Fraser” because I feel his hands pawing at my chest, at the car, at my ass. They slow down there, just long enough for me to get what he wants.

I’m so hard I could go blind.

“Yeah.” I take my mouth off of him long enough to get that out and I reach out too, feeling behind me. I get crushed against the seat and almost bent in half and then Fraser finds the lever and I’m shoving the fucking seat out of the way and letting Fraser push me into the backseat.

The vinyl’s cold enough to make me shiver, and I have to twist around to climb in, on my hands and knees with Fraser breathing heavy behind me. Fuck. I don’t move once I’m in either. I catch a look at myself in the rearview mirror and see Fraser’s hand stroking along my back. His hand shakes, but his hold on me is firm, and I can feel my muscles getting loose where he touches me.

I’m shaking too, so much I can barely hold myself up while he settles in at my back. This is definitely not dreaming. When Fraser touches the back of my jeans and then sighs I can’t hold myself up anymore. I fall forward onto my elbows I’m so weak.

Fraser’s like this furnace behind me and his fur is gone but his skin is just as soft. His fingers play with the bare skin along my back for a moment after he pulls my shirt up and then I just kneel there with my face almost to the vinyl when he bends over me and licks along my spine.

“Fraser!” I’m going to kill him. His tongue is flat and warm and he licks me slow, real slow, and then he’s got his big, beautiful hands at my waist and he’s getting my fucking jeans out of the way. I have to move for that and I don’t want to and I’m still shaking but I forget about that when Fraser slides off my boxers too.

I don’t know where they go, I don’t care. I can feel the heat as Fraser leans in close to me, and right as I realize that he’s breathing in, that he’s smelling me again, I feel his tongue, flat and warm along my ass.

My head hits the padded door handle and I’m sliding my open mouth along the seat. That’s gross. I know it. I’m licking things like Fraser and the _wolf_ has been back here.

But it’s like he’s stroking my dick, except he hasn’t touched it yet, so I’m crouching drown, trying to rub myself on the seat. I can smell Fraser on my hand, sharp and salty.

“Fuck!” My balls are tight and Fraser puts his mouth there too, he’s fucking everywhere with that pink tongue, licking, probing, until I push back against him. I don’t need the mirror to know his eyes are closed, he’s _considering_. “Just give it to me already, Fraser!” I snap at him, tossing my head.

I’m open here, I’m waiting. And Fraser puts a hand to my back and raises himself up. “Ray,” he says, out of breath, and all I can see in the mirror when I angle my head is Fraser staring down at me. The serge is crooked and Fraser’s mouth is open.

“Ray,” he says again, and I am going to kick him if he doesn’t do something soon. I clear my throat to threaten him and Fraser grabs my hips real tight.

“ _Fuck_.” I don’t even think I get the word out. My teeth are in the vinyl, leaving marks. For a full minute it hurts, stinging worse than torn knuckles, not as bad as broken ribs, and Fraser isn’t being slow now. Fraser slides all the way inside of me before he goes still, and he’s whispering against my ear. I focus on his warm breath on my neck.

After a while I let go of the vinyl, and then I bend my knees, spread my legs a little more. Fraser makes a weak little noise against me that shifts into a growl when I move again.

“Fuckin’ do it.” My hands slide out more and Fraser’s hands clamp over them, just like before, against the fucking wall, he’s not going to let me move now, so I wriggle, and it burns but I like the burn.

“Yeah, Fraser.” I’m giving orders to the seat but Fraser finally starts to move, rolling back, keeping his hands tight on mine while he fucks me slow. He’s quiet, grunting, I’m the one snarling with my face pressed down, clawing at the vinyl. But he won’t let go, and he keeps his mouth to my neck, open to say my name, letting me feel his teeth as he pushes in.

Christ. It feels good. Better than good. Fraser is all heat and fire and this rock-hard cock in my ass all rock-hard for me. And only me. It better be for only me or I’ll kick him in the head.

“Fraser,” I try, because I always imagined this fast and rough and I should have known. Even with his teeth against my neck, on my shoulder, Fraser’s taking me his way. He ought to, he’s thought about it too. Dreamed of it while he was covered in fur and prowling the Consulate. Except I can’t take much more, I have to move. I try to grind on the seat and gasp when Fraser twists and his grip gets tighter and the breath on my neck gets ragged. He’s faster too, and I kind of roll up underneath him and push back against Fraser’s hot skin, let him stretch me, just pound into me.

He’s going to come and I’m dizzy just thinking about it, wanting it, and I get my ass up in the air and let Fraser crush down on top of me and when I hear the sexy way his voice gets rough when he says my name, like he _is_ the wolf and he’s howling, I know he’s coming and I’m coming too, tight around him, so hot I don’t even feel his teeth in my neck until later.

I think my eyes were closed for a while, so I open them. Fraser’s still on top of me, and he’s fucking heavy but I don’t say anything yet. My neck stings, and my ass is throbbing. Also, I’m sort of crouched in my jizz, and I think that _might_ stain the interior. I don’t care much though. Well, I care about my back; tomorrow is going to hurt.

“Oh, Ray,” Fraser starts up suddenly above me and I don’t know why until he takes one hand away from one of mine and puts it softly to my neck. “I’m afraid I bit you,” he tells me seriously and I can’t help it. I laugh.

I feel Fraser start to pull away immediately so I reach around and grab some part of him, his hip I think. I can’t stay that way for long, but it’s enough to stop him.

“You couldn’t help yourself, Fraser,” I snicker into the vinyl and I can tell he knows I’m laughing at him even if he doesn’t know why. He pulls away from me anyway, but slower this time, and it’s okay, it’s good, because I can sit up on my knees and now my back doesn’t hurt so much.

Fraser is sitting back in the seat, staring at me like he ain’t never seen me before. But he is smiling a little too. Maybe he really expected me to pop him one.

In a minute, we’re going to have to straighten up and head back in there and arrest some people and try to act normal for the boys at the station. Normal, like Fraser isn’t a werewolf and he didn’t just fuck me stupid in the back of my car. For now I’m sitting here and looking at him.

Fraser’s cheeks are red.

“So…” I start, looking out the windows for a second at the boring alley. “Satisfy those urges?” My dick still tingles. Fraser purses his lips, like maybe he’s got something to add to what I said, but after a while he just nods. His hands twitch a little in his lap too. I didn’t get to look at Fraser’s dick before, and I get distracted for a moment or two before I remember to look back up. My mouth is dry.

“Next time you want ask me out, Fraser, just ask me.” And if he’s paying attention at all, he’ll remember what I said earlier. All he has to do is ask. But Fraser frowns at me.

“I _did_ ask, Ray. I asked you to share a meal…”

“You said it in Canadian, Fraser!” I howl before he’s even finished. “You know I don’t _understand_ Canadian!” Fraser gives me a look, real pissy, and then picks at The Uniform, which is still all torn to hell no matter how he wishes he wasn’t.

“We should attend to our captured suspects, Ray.” He coughs once and sits up straighter and I turn my glare to the goddamn alley. I can just see the moonlight on the ground.

Fucking stakeouts, I think and then all of the sudden I hear Fraser make with one of his ‘hm’s and his hand is light on my shoulder. I turn to stare at him.

“All I have to do is ask, Ray?” Fraser wants to know, talking quietly. Finally he gets it. I guess Fraser doesn’t understand American as much as he thinks he does. Fraser gives me another quick look like the kind he used to give me when we started all this, back before the wolves and the wild thing in the backseat of the GTO. But he’s still frowning, so I have to kind of shift so I can look at him, and that makes a couple of parts of me scream some more, so maybe my face isn’t exactly friendly when Fraser glances at me.

He freezes for a moment before he seems to get that I just hurt. His hand drops down to my lower back and rubs a little in a circle. I can’t tell if he knows he’s doing it, but I try not to frown so much. Fraser’s looking upset enough for the two of us.

“And my…predicament, Ray?” Fraser saying that takes my mind off his big, warm hand so I can think and I realize he means the whole werewolf, garoo thing. He could say it; it’s not like I haven’t seen it in action. He nosed my crotch for Christ’s sake. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“Fraser…” I want to pinch my nose but I restrain myself, which I _can_ do, and stare at him with his serge all open to show his chest and his throat, and his hair falling in his face. He’s nervous, so he licks his lips and tugs at what’s left of his collar.

I shake my head. He’s the same Fraser, just…not as Mountie. More wild. I got my leg sliding over his lap before I think better of what I’m doing, or remember that we’re in the back of the Goat and we didn’t fog up the glass that much and we still got work to do. I put my nose under his ear and I feel Fraser’s fingers sort of cling to my back for a second.

I grin and put my hand down between us. Fraser’s soft now, but still hot, and his cock twitches when I squeeze it.

“What a big dick you got, Fraser.” I am dumb, but Fraser takes a little shocked breath and then he turns his head so I can feel the words spill out of him, rushed and needy. I’m nodding before he’s done.

“When our work tonight is done, Ray, perhaps you would care to join me for some breakfast?”

“Fuck yeah.”

 

The End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Moonlight and Coffee (Wild Thing Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/183657) by [rispacooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper)




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